


Scattered Memories

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universes, Dedicated Author, Doomed Timelines, Every pairing, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-20
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-16 17:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/541871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Behind every pairing is a story waiting to be told. Uncharted timelines, untold encounters, and lost love. Most are doomed, few are successful in the Alpha timeline, yet that does not make them insubstantial. It's time to delve into the timelines. Are you ready?</p><p>(Current pairing: Jane/Jake, Jane's POV.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feferi/Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This is a vast undertaking. I know that. Many have tried and failed, or are slowly working their way to the finish line. I want to be one of them, and hopefully, I won't lose my inspiration!
> 
> Using a random number generator, I'm going through every pairing Homestuck has to offer between the post-Scratch trolls, Beta kids, Alpha kids, and Davesprite. Taking into account that I'm doing "continuations" of chapters (continued explanation of the relationship from the other person's POV), this fic will be 420 chapters or maybe even larger!  
> (Haha, and some time down the line I might even add the pre-Scratch trolls, because I do /love/ some Meenah pairings . . .)
> 
> And the first pairing?  
> Feferi/Rose, from Feferi's POV.

She was mysterious and strange. Not really the nicest person you had ever met. (However, she was definitely not the worst either!)

There was something haunting about her. The way she glided in the void surrounding her, the easy flow of her tangerine robes, and the sharp contradiction of her pale skin to her dark make-up.

She positively radiated deep, omniscient energy and a certain . . . darkness.

No, not darkness.

 _Grim_ darkness.

You were hooked.

Having grown up with the whispers of the horrorterrors in your ear, you were an expert at spotting anything that had come into contact with them. And _she_ had not merely had a passing encounter with the otherworldly gods. She had once been ensconced in their power, had been overwhelmed and gained the most dangerous power any player that had never achieved God Tier could.

She had also been driven into madness.

Yet there this girl was, standing before you in all of her beautiful glory. (Wait, beautiful? When did you decide this?)

You were never one to sit around when there were people to meet and socialize with. You had no idea that among the humans there was this entrancing (entrancing?) girl with the striking lavender eyes. A shade of lavender, you noted, that if mixed with a bit of pink, would have rivaled your own tyrian purple on the hemospectrum.

You’re getting off topic, aren’t you?

"Who are you?"

Startled out of your reverie, you were somehow unsurprised to find the recently-discussed girl to be standing next to you, staring you down with her dissecting gaze. You have never thought of yourself as helpless, yet underneath that stare you were a innocuous specimen, a willing prisoner. (Oh goodness, this is getting out of hand . . .)

You grinned exuberantly. "Feferi Peixes!"

She raised a delicate eyebrow. You had a feeling she already knew -- and not just anything, she already knew _everything,_ everything there was to know. It sent a shiver of electricity racing across your skin. She nodded. "My name is Rose Lalonde, the Seer of Light." She paused in her sentence, as if deliberating. "Would you like to assist me in my research?"

"Shore!"

She graced you with a magnificently soft, devious smile. "Very well then. Follow me."

As you followed, you couldn’t help it when your grin grew wider.

You had no idea why -- maybe it was because of her appearance? Her effortless style? Her suave, all-knowing demeanor? Maybe it was because you had been dead for a long time and this especially interesting girl had finally stirred your afterlife into motion.

Well, who cared about the reason!

You were flushing as red as the Earth flower the Seer of Light was named after.

(Pretty much.)

And with your effervescent charm, you were going to sweep her off her feet! Now _that_ sounded like fun, didn't it?

(Y---ES!!!!! 38D)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Feferi is bubbly when it comes to love -- meaning she can fall into very deep emotions very quickly, especially when she sees that she has a common characteristic with someone, such as the horrorterror connection between her and Rose.


	2. Dirk/Nepeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heroes of Heart meet, and silly arguements instantly ensue.

 

 The first thing Nepeta Leijon did when you met her was to immediately “tacklepounce” you to the ground and begin to gush about how “she was _finally_ meeting the infurmous” -- did she mean infamous? -- “other Hero of Heart!”

You’ve had worst first meetings, such as silently watching your crush/best bro kiss your decapitated head. Few things can be more awkward than that. Or more strange, for that matter. So a troll with a few cat-like tendencies and shitty puns is no big deal. Really, it’s a breath of fresh air.

And apparently, from what she says, you already have something in common.

After you wrangle her off, she persistently hangs to your arm, practically climbing onto you in her eagerness to get closer, to express her extremely high levels of joy having found you. You let her talk. There’s nothing better to do, you suppose.

“So you’re a Purrince?” Her voice is high-pitched and girly, nearly the exact replication of an excited five year old. Added in with the puns and how obviously she rolled her r’s, she was absolutely ridiculous.

(It was so _ironic_.

You’re not sure if her genuineness was a good thing or not, but you guess it doesn’t matter. It was amusing either way.)

“Yeah,” you replied. “And what are you, the Seer or something?”

She giggled, a short little “h33h33!” that was completely predictable. “No, I’m the Rogue, silly!”

That definitely sounded familiar.

Roxy was a Rogue. The Rogue of Void. Your uninterested gaze suddenly fell on the lithe girl glued to your side. “So you steal the heart and soul for the benefit of others?”

“I suppose so!”

This knowledge assuaged any negative or doubtful thoughts about her. Rogues were like Roxy, supported the good of everyone. Fierce protectors of what they believed was right and usually easy-going. This troll never seemed like a threat, but the knowledge that she truly was a good guy helped your conscious.

You allowed yourself to relax. “Do you have a name?”

She blinked at you stupidly for a moment, then blushed. “Oh, how purrfectly impawlite of me! My name is Nepeta Leijon. What’s yours?”

“Dirk Strider.”

“Aw, that’s sounds pawsitively adorable!”

You halted mid-step and stared at her. “Adorable? How am I in any way ‘adorable’?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, shrugging and tilting her head.

You smirked. “If either us is the adorable one, it has to be you. You’re almost a shoujo schoolgirl in the flesh. I mean, what is this?” You pointed at the blue cat hat she was wearing. “And this?” You tugged at the sleeve of her over-sized coat. “You are a walking, talking stereotype of all that is adorable. Come on, just admit it.”

Nepeta gasped dramatically. “How dare you say that! I am a furry fierce huntress!” You would have harped on her for overplaying it until you realized she was doing it on purpose. (Haha, or would it be _on_   _purrpose_? )

“Also, what about you? You’re purractically the cutest and most adorable thing ever!” she continued.

You pried (Purried? Wow, this cat pun thing is purretty fun. Ironically fun, that is.) her off your arm and took a step away. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses there, kitten. You’re repeating yourself now. How am I cute?”

In response, Nepeta popped her hip to the side and rested her hands on them, a surprisingly devious smile resting on her lips.

Oh no. It’s about to get real up in here.

“Well fur one!” She pointed at your face. “What’s up with your glasses? They’re all weird and pointy. And you’re acting stoic, but I bet you want to smile. What’s not adorable about that? You’re so ‘cool’ and ‘controlled’, as if you're better than efurryone else. When I think about it, you remind me a lot of Equius!” Her grin widened two-fold. “I bet you’re really STRONG and talented, too! That has to be the furry most adorable thing ever.” She crossed her arms, satisifed. “See?”

“Nope,” you instantly denied. “I am a suave cool-kid who saves everyone else and doesn’t care about anyone or anything. I am stoic. I am practically a god, even without those stupid God Tier pj’s. The exact opposite of cute.”

“I beg to diffur,” she protested, pointing again.

“What’s so fierce about you? You’re a dainty, fragile girl who probably couldn’t defend herself from a fly,” you mocked, a light smirk tugging at your lips.

She flattened a hand to her chest, eyes wide. “Furagile? I’ll show you _furagile_.” Within a split second, long claws appeared on her hands, as sharp and deadly as your katana.

Speaking of your precious sword, you summoned it from your strife specibus and held it loosely from your hand, a warning gesture. “What are you going to do?”

She sneered (Literally sneered. Whoa, maybe she wasn’t so sweet and innocent after all.) and sunk into a crouch, claws out and ready. “The mighty huntress begins to stalk her purrey! Surely this weak specimen will fall easily to her claws!” she narrated as she slowly circled you.

“Oh, it’s a strife you want?” You turned with her, keeping eye contact as you moved. “Well bring it on, kitten. Let the fur fly.” Your smirk strained to widen, but you resisted. “I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

“Uh-huh, sure you will!”

She waited a moment more, then let out a feral hiss and pounced.

Time seemed to slow as she descended. She was grinning, uncontrolled and eager. Her body was sleek, graceful, somehow leaner and tighter than yours, despite the fact you had been strifing since you were a child. Maybe she had as well? (Were trolls ever children? What were they, grubs or something?)

There was something you could admire in this girl. Her obvious fighting prowess, her light-hearted demeanor, her optimism. She almost reminded you of Jake in that way. (Which is a horrible thought to have at this time. The rejection still stings.) Except she wasn’t him. She was different, unique.

Actually, you bet she was a better fighter than Jake could ever be.

You brought your katana up and blocked her first attack, knocking her to ground. She was instantly upon you again.

You stopped attempting to hide your smile. She saw through your ruse, so why continue using it? Just this once, you could let go . . .

A Hero of Heart can always rely on their instincts, their base desires and emotions. Another Hero of Heart could understand you for sure. She probably has everything figured out already.

(Either that, or she’s as clueless as you.)

You think you’re okay with that.

The strife continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Dirk blames himself for a lot of things, and often sees it his responsibility to fix everything and everyone, at any cost to himself.
> 
> Also, if Jake rejected him he would be very bitter about it, and would compare his love interests to him for a long time.


	3. Jade/Eridan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade has a somewhat startling meeting with a certain seadweller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The random number generator has truly been too kind to me, giving me such easy ships! Writing these has made me begin to realize that it takes something /really/ outrageous for me to consider it a "crack" ship.

You hated sleeping!

You used to crave it, wished you could disappear forever in the golden moon’s bustling streets. It was a beautiful, perfect place. A utopia if you ever knew one.

You missed that place, those people.

With your dream self dead and Prospit’s moon destroyed, you were subjected to wandering through the horrendous void that was the Furthest Ring. Even in dream bubbles, you were tortured by the tentacled gods, and it was driving you insane.

(why can’t you have a peaceful night’s sleep?? why do they have to do this to you? what did you ever do?)

Putting aside the horrorterrors, the company you found yourself in was never pleasant. Once, there was a loud-mouth troll who bragged too often and had too many violent tendencies, then there was a scary, muscled troll with cracked shades and greasy hair who insisted that you were inferior to him.

Tonight had to be the worst of them all, though.

You woke with the muzzle of a blue ray gun in your face.

And you snapped.

(who wouldn’t if you woke up like that!?)

You screeched and launched yourself up, simultaneously wrenching the gun out of the wielder’s hands and kicking them in the leg. They crumpled with a dramatic “oof” and a stream of shouted curses, and suddenly the tables were turned, the positions switched.

You nearly burst out laughing at the pitiful, ridiculous creature you had bested.

It was a troll, of course. (the bubbles were never kind enough to give you human company.) He was skinny, a pile of bones, thin muscle, and odd clothing, and without his gun, he was completely defenseless. You would almost feel bad for him, had it not been for the vicious glare he was sending in your direction and how he was baring his sharp fangs at you.

His theme was purple, apparently. From the (admittedly pretty sweet) swirl in his hair, the long scarf hung around his neck, the long, outrageous cape, and even his shoes, the purple theme seemed to be a constant, and . . . What were you thinking saying this guy was ridiculous and odd?

This had to be the stupidest person in all of paradox space -- and he pulled it off in the most endearing way possible. (seriously!!! :o)

“Let go of my fuckin’ wweapon, bitch!”

Okay, not the kindest guy, but what did you expect? He was a troll, after all.

You have to admit that it made you a little less eager to interact with him, though. (but maybe he was like karkat?)

“I don’t think so, not that with that attitude!” You hardened your gaze and flipped the gun around to jab the butt into the troll’s stomach, causing another gush of curses to escape his lips as he doubled over. “You vvile wwitch,” he snapped, barely comprehensible as he bit down on his lip in pain. (what a surprise: his blood was purple as well.)

“I am, in fact, a witch,” you replied, suddenly grinning despite the insult. “Can’t you see my God Tier outfit?”

He didn’t respond, his blank white eyes narrowed in anger.

You weren’t exactly feeling charitable, but as you watched him silently glaring, you came to the conclusion that violence wouldn’t help. If you were going to earn an ally, or an enemy, it wouldn’t do any good to mistreat him. Might as well give him a chance.

“Okay, I’m going to let you up, and we’re going to have a nice conversation. If you don’t try to attack me, then I’ll give you your gun back. Although . . .” You stepped away and held the gun (could it be some sort of rifle?) out to examine it. It was extremely heavy, despite being quite sleek and fancy. The barrel appeared to have some sort of . . . was that a crystal? You weren’t sure. It looked like the sort of gun your grandpa would have locked away in a case somewhere so you could admire its beauty and uniqueness.

In conclusion, the gun was gaudy as hell, but it seemed to pack a powerful punch, so you gave it the Harley seal of approval, which was not an actual thing that existed.

While you had been preoccupied with the rifle, the troll had gained his feet and was eyeing you with suspicion. He pointed at you. “Are you gonna finish, or continue to ogle my wweapon like you’re gettin’ off on it or somethin’.” He paused, mortified, as what he said sunk in. You restrained a giggle at the hint of a violet blush on his cheeks. “Wwoww, that sounded wway better in my head.”

“I’m sure it did,” you giggled, hugging the gun to your chest now so he couldn’t swipe it. “But if you really want your precious gun back, you have to be nice first.” You gestured at the ground. “Come on, let’s sit and talk.” In one clumsy motion, you plopped down in the grass.

His gaze was down-right murderous as he took his place beside you, sweeping his cape to the side and straightening his bulky glasses. Then he sighed, and the tension drained out of his body, leaving his expression bored and gloomy. “Wwhat’s there to evven talk about?” he inquired, waving a hand dismissively. (hey, you hadn’t noticed he was wearing so many rings! they sort of reminded you of the colorful reminders you once wore. :))

“That’s easy!” you chirped. “First, we introduce ourselves. I’m Jade Harley.” You nodded at him, signalling it was his turn.

Despite his lack of pupils, you had a feeling he was rolling his eyes at you. “Eridan Ampora.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “That’s a fancy name.”

“It’s a name,” he muttered. “Nothin’ to get wworked up ovver.”

There was silence for a few minutes. You weren’t sure what to say, so you settled on watching him as he stared glumly at the landscape, which was a mish-mash of beaches, rolling hills, and stand-alone lakes. He was slouched, his hand propping his head up, being careful of the -- wait.

“What are those?” you asked, pointed at the protrusions on the side of his head. There was an inkling of a memory tugging at your subconscious. Where had you seen those before?

Eridan instantly snapped to attention, his spine stick-straight as he raised his hands to try and cover those . . . (really, what were they? :\) “My fuckin’ head fins, wwhat the hell else could they be? It’s the rewward I get for bein’ born wwith pure vviolet blood. Havven’t you been told about seadwwellers?”

Then it clicked. “Just like Feferi!”

He froze.

You grinned. “I remember it now. Feferi had fins like those, and she kept talking about how she was a seadweller, or at least implied it I think, and--”

“You talked to Feferi Peixes, abdicated empress to be?” he said, lowering his hands and staring in disbelief.

You nodded, a bit mystified. “Yeah. We never talked a lot, but she was nice. Except, apparently she’s dead now.”

You were about to question him about his connection with her when he suddenly lurched forward, sobbing into hands, shoulders already beginning to shake.

Mystified by the show of emotion, you slowly placed your hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Did you not know she was . . . gone?” You winced, hoping you were being delicate and tactful.

He whipped around, pushing your hand away and shuffling away. “Of course I kneww that she’s dead! I wwas the one that killed her!” he shouted, not bothering to wipe away the diluted purple tear streaks running down his cheeks.

It was your turn to freeze.

He scowled, nearly tripping over his cape as he got to his feet. “Don’t start judgin’ me,” he growled. “I knoww I fucked up. It wwas the stupidest, most idiotic, dowwnright moronic thing I’vve evver done. An’ I regret it evvery indivvidual day wwhile I wwander around this insufferable place, so shut your trap.”

As he stalked away, you were struck with the worst case of guilt, and as you looked down at the gun, something dawned on you yet again.

This gun . . . _This gun_.

It was Ahab’s Crosshairs. It was the exact gun your penpal had sent you along with the other weapons. It was the same one you had thrown out the window after that weird, icky troll had sent it to you.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, staring at the troll who was walking away. That purple was the same purple of his text, the stuttering of his w’s mirrored how he doubled them when he typed. He was the one that had hit on you multiple times and had complained about his drama and his problems.

After the shock wore off, Eridan was a fair distance off, still striding quickly and angrily, his fingers curled into tight fists.

You frowned, caught between getting out of there and leaving the psychopath to stew in his own bad decisions (he did seem like a jerk and he was awfully rude and assuming) or running after him. (everyone did horrible things. that didn’t make them horrible people . . .)

Slowly, you stood, and began walking, soon warping space so you were standing next to him. He acted as if nothing strange had happened and glared daggers at you.

You held the gun out to him.

“It’s okay.”

That’s all you said.

You gave him a tired, wiry smile.

He took the Crosshairs carefully, slipping it into his strife specibus. He didn’t respond, but when his eyes met yours again, something had changed. He was weary, he was guarded, but there was no longer anger in his body language. He was tentative, unsure.

Your grin grew wider. “So where are we going now?”

He shrugged. “No clue.”

“Let’s get going then!” You nudged him, and skipped forward, gesturing for him to follow.

(are you imagining that hint of a smile? is such a thing even _possible_? hehehe. ;) guess you'll find out. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Jade can't resist trying to help someone if they're upset, even if all they've shown her is that they're a complete asshole. (heehee, ring any bells?)
> 
> Also, does anyone like/dislike the whole parenthesis thing? I sort of just began to do it during Feferi's piece, then continued it, and I kind of like it . . . Feedback anyone?


	4. Jane/Jake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane tries out BettyBother, and unwittingly falls in love with a certain adventurer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one, as you might suspect, was not chosen by a random number generator. Actually, it was requested by a close friend, so here we are! To be honest, despite my vast armada of ships, this is not one of them, but hopefully I did it justice, since I have some bad history with unrequited love as well.
> 
> (I am Jane in real life, you guys. She is literally me. I even enjoy puzzles and have a silly best friend.)
> 
> (EDIT: Fixed a bit of misplaced coding.)

Truthfully, how you stumbled upon him was entirely by circumstance. A twist of fate, you could say, that you were not expecting in the least.

You have always been somewhat of a shy gal, staying in the background during school hours and sticking to your room at home. The only real joy you had was cooking and baking for your father, a coveted talent of yours that was the singular place where you could shine -- "A prodigy," your father commended. (It was nice to know that you could make him so proud, although his continuous praise could be tiring at times.)

You were also not the most technical of people. Most of the time, you had no idea what you were doing when it came to working the confounded piece of technology that was a computer. At least, that’s what you thought in the beginning. It became easier with practice and constant use, you learned.

This subject would lead perfectly into what you were originally thinking of. (What a wandering mind you can possess! Positively ridiculous.)

It began with installing BettyBother, a brand new chat client that Crockercorp had recently released. As the heiress, it was your responsibility to at least take a passing glance at it and test it out.

When you opened it, it confronted you with a request to sign in. You filled in the blanks requesting your basic information until you were confronted to provide a username. After a moment of thought, you typed in “gutsyGumshoe” and smiled to yourself when you were admitted into the system. You immediately began to shuffle through the customization options and various features of the client, all the while combating the advertisements that appeared every few seconds. After a couple minutes, your tour was nearly complete -- that is, until you caught sight of a button that read ‘Random Encounter’.

You stared thoughtfully at it, the clicker hovering over it hesitantly. (Could you allow yourself a moment of recklessness?) It truly wouldn’t do any harm. It was harmless! A button. Just a button. Really, what is the worst you could be faced with? (An irritated loud-mouth? A self-centered jerk? Someone who barely makes any sense? No reply at all?) Well you could handle it. It would be nice to do something a bit irregular, a break from your routine of monotony.

You clicked the button, grinning like mad for literally no reason at all. (You really needed to get out more.)

 

\-- gutsyGumshoe [GG] began bothering golgothasTerror [GT] \--

 

Oh shit. You had actually begun a conversation.

An irrational terror (Why isn’t that funny, this fellow’s handle has the word ‘terror’ in it.) gripped your heart. You rushed to close the conversation, when--

 

GT: Hello?

 

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no.

This cannot be happening.

You stared in horror as messages continued to pop up.

 

GT: Im awfully surprised anyone has found me!

GT: Its been...

GT: Jeez entire MONTHS since ive spoken to any person!

GT: Haha.

 

The terror eased as a flutter of pity and confusion rattled your emotions. For a few more moments, you watched the green text continue to add up.

 

GT: I...

GT: I suppose you didnt mean to pester me?

GT: I see.

GT: It must have been an accident then.

GT: Have you left?

 

At those words you were spurned into action.

 

GG: Hello.

GG: Sorry, I, uh, didn’t know what I had clicked!

GG: I’m sure you don’t wish to be disturbed, so I’ll leave you alone...

GT: Please dont. After all it isnt every day that i get a chance to speak with such a polite individual.

GG: Oh.

GG: Well, I suppose I could stick around for a little while.

GT: Stunning!

GT: Would it be too forward of me to ask what your name could be?

GG: I suppose not.

GG: My name is Jane Crocker.

GG: And you?

GT: Jake english at your service madame crocker.

GT: *Smiles dashingly at miss crocker*

GG: That is...

GG: Very nice of you, Jake.

GG: Unexpected, but nice. :B

 

An awkward beginning sprouted into a full-fledged conversation. It was surprisingly nice and easy to speak with him, as if you had known him for years. It was refreshing. He did not ignore or dismiss you. He listened to your opinions thoughtfully, although in his eagerness he sometimes forgot them. (You couldn’t blame him.)

You learned some rather unbelievable things about him.

He lived alone on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. More specifically, he lived on a jungle filled to the brim with wild, gargantuan beasts. Which was completely ridiculous. (What did you look like, a sucker?)

Jake, however, was only too eager to prove that he was telling the truth. The pictures he sent you were mind-boggling. Trees that could have been as tall as skyscrapers, dense brush, and the terrifying visage of a . . . a _monster_. There was no other way to describe it. It was a gigantic white monster with a hard carapace and a mouth full of vicious fangs.

It was unbelievable, but you had no choice but to accept it. There was no way Jake would go through all of the trouble to create these images and maintain such an odd cover. It was hard to believe the things he said, but you grew accustomed to it after a while.

What you don’t become accustomed to are the weird bouts of giddiness that affect you when you see that he’s online, or when he says a particularly sweet compliment. To be honest, you are perfectly capable in the intellectual department, but you have always been skeptical, as can be evidenced by your disbelief of Jake’s confession of where he lives. Due to your skepticism, what should have been obvious (The reason for the itch in your fingers to give unneeded compliments or to type multiple less-than-three signs.) was not. Or perhaps, you didn’t want to believe. (Really, isn’t that what skepticism is at its very roots? The unwillingness to believe?)

Yet after the problem continued, you couldn’t kid yourself any longer. It was so unlike you to fall head-over-heels for a guy you barely know, who lives on an island you will most likely never visit, who is far too gung-ho for his own good, who you have only seen in a few photographs that you exchanged with him, who you met _over the internet_ of _all places_ , and . . . It was just ridiculous. The entire subject of having a crush on him was just totally ridiculous.

That did not dissuade a bright grin from forming when you signed into BettyBother and was quickly engaged in a conversation with Jake. It didn’t drive away or lessen the blush that burned your cheeks when he said how you had made his day by coming online. (Could he really mean that?)

You were a realist through and through. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that this couldn’t last, that your feelings would be unrequited, or the distance between you would be too far.

But like any normal girl, that didn’t stop you from playing out sweet scenarios in your mind, and it definitely didn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the mere thought of his name.

 

GT: And how are you doing today jane?

GT: Any intriguing pieces of news to share with me?

 

You were too nervous to tell him. You didn’t lie, but that did not mean you weren’t withholding the truth.

(You think that was your first mistake out of many.)

 

GG: Oh nothing.

GG: I’m sure whatever you’ve been up to has been a lot more exciting than my boring ol’ hum-drum life.

GG: I’ve been doing very good though.

GT: Well its music to my ears to hear that!

GT: Im glad youre doing so well!

 

Maybe he’ll notice, or you’ll work up the courage to tell him.

(Maybe it’ll work itself out in time, if he begins to feel the same way.)

Or might end in failure.

(Which is a more likely conclusion to be honest!)

Nonetheless, you fall deeper, the ache in your heart growing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Jane is a secret romantic, but is basically too shy and fear rejection too much to pursue any crushes she might have: Thus, the whole Jake Debacle.


End file.
